


Goes to Show (You Never Can Tell)

by lonelywalker



Category: Brothers & Sisters
Genre: Jossed, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-18
Updated: 2011-04-18
Packaged: 2017-10-18 08:12:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/186802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonelywalker/pseuds/lonelywalker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-<i>Mexico</i>. Henry tries to comprehend Walker family loyalties as Saul returns to Ojai.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Goes to Show (You Never Can Tell)

Summer tastes of lemonade and motor oil in Henry Mittner's mind, the sun drenching the courtyard of his apartment building in light as he tinkers with his bike, cellphone wedged between his cheek and shoulder. He's been owed time off for a while, and had expected to save up his days to take Saul away on a proper vacation as soon as summer had started in earnest. They'd snuck off to the beach for a few days in the spring, but Henry badly wants to take him to Europe or the Caribbean, switch off both of their cellphones, and not worry about anything except the number for room service.

Of course, on this day of days, with brilliant sunshine that has finally convinced him to stay away from the office, Saul is nowhere to be found. Henry's left messages, and even called Scotty who, amid clattering dishes, had explained something about all the Walkers disappearing off to Mexico in pursuit of Saul's errant nephew Tommy.

If Henry were in a worse mood, or liable to be bitter, he might take such a thing personally. But Saul's always been very clear about his family loyalties, and it's almost a pleasure to see a group of relatives so tightly-knit, even when they argue.

"What are you doing to that bike, Henry?"

There's a growl in his ear as he starts up the engine. Even from as far away as Maryland, his father, who is rapidly approaching ninety, can still hear something faulty.

Henry switches the engine off again, and gets back down on his knees. "I know what I'm doing, Dad."

"Doesn't sound like it. Have you got any oil in that thing at all? You're gonna need to strip the whole thing down, you know."

"What do you think I've been doing?" Admittedly, there's probably more oil under Henry's fingernails and rubbed onto his jeans than there is in the bike itself. "So how're the nurses treating you?"

"Not nurses. They're _personal care assistants_. Sounds like they're whores, doesn't it?"

" _Dad_."

"When are you coming to visit?"

"Next month, like I told you. I'm busy with work."

"You're messing around with a bike on a school day, son. Doesn't sound like busy to me."

Henry had thought that nagging from his father just _might_ have stopped when he passed sixty himself. He had obviously been mistaken. "I thought Saul and I might do something together today."

"That's your man?"

"It is."

"Saul, eh? Jewish? Or black? They go in for those Biblical names, don't they?"

"He's Jewish."

"So you can fly out here for Christmas this year, then."

The sound of a car approaching makes Henry look up from his task. "I don't know... His family's sort of Irish Catholic, I think."

"Jewish Irish Catholic?" his father asks, incredulous. "What did he do to deserve that?"

The car stops, now recognizably belonging to Saul, and its owner gets out. Unusually for a weekday with no family events on the horizon, Saul's wearing a suit. Henry wipes off his hands yet again. "I've got to go, Dad. I'll call you tonight." He hangs up before any more objections can be heard, and gets to his feet just as Saul approaches. "You're looking very dapper."

"What? Oh." Saul pats down his suit, a little selfconscious. "I hope that wasn't my voicemail you were talking to again. I just got your messages a few minutes ago."

Henry scratches his head, only remembering the oil on his hands when it's already too late. "No, my father. I'm reasonably sure he still thinks I'm fifteen."

"Alzheimer's?" Saul asks. Perhaps it's a good assumption, given Henry's profession.

"Parental prerogative," Henry replies with a smile. They haven't hugged yet. Haven't kissed. Of course, Henry's filthy, but still... it adds a certain tension to the air. "Do you want to come inside? I'll clean myself up. Scotty said your whole family was down in Mexico?"

Saul follows him into the apartment. "Mm, most of them. I hope Scotty didn't sound too upset."

"Upset?"

"Kevin missed their anniversary."

"Oh, I should send them a card... No, he only sounded busy." Henry finds a towel. "Help yourself to the fridge. I'll just get oil over everything. So... everything's all right?"

Saul moves a stack of books from Henry's couch and sits down without getting a drink. "With Tommy? Apparently. Sarah gave me a call from the airport. I didn't know your father was still alive."

"Oh yes. Still flirting with every woman in Baltimore and thinking he's a motorcycle champion all over again." There's a subject being avoided here, if only Henry knew what it was. Having wiped most of the dirt from his fingers, he drops down onto the couch (which has never been particularly clean anyway) and puts an arm around Saul.

Saul looks over at him with a smile that might just be a little halfhearted. "And you two are on good terms? I mean... he knows that you're...?"

"He didn't particularly love that I was a fag in the sixties," Henry shrugs. "But he's had forty years to get over it. Now what about you? What's wrong?"

Saul breathes out, glances down. "Can I get away with saying 'nothing'?"

Henry lifts his arm, his fingertips stroking the nape of Saul's neck. "You can, but you'll feel better if you don't."

"Ah." Saul closes his eyes briefly, smiles. "You're too good at this." Eyes open once more, he sighs. "I'm going back to work at Ojai."

Excellent counselor he might be, but Henry can't help stiffening up a little at those words. "Ojai?" he repeats. "For how long? What happened?"

"Permanently, as far as I know. And it's a very long story."

"Not one you could have told me before you made this decision?" Henry drops his hand, scratches at his jaw instead.

Saul hesitates. "It all happened very quickly."

"Then it shouldn't have happened at all." Henry gets to his feet, aware that he's making this worse, but also knowing that he can't stop himself. He had wanted a day in bed, or in the sun with his lover. Not this.

"Henry..."

"We were talking about buying a house together, Saul. And now you don't even mention that you're changing your entire _life_? You didn't think to talk it over with me? You're my partner, Saul, and I thought you felt the same way about me."

"I do. I do." Saul sinks back against the couch, one hand covering his eyes as if he's suddenly developed a terrible headache. "But it really _is_ complicated. And it's not so much that I _want_ to do it."

Henry looks back over at him. Suddenly it might just make sense. "Family loyalties rearing their head again?"

Saul nods. "Something like that. I... You never did meet Ryan, did you? He's working at Ojai, now, and I feel as though I need to be there to look out for him. He's a very troubled young man, but he has such potential, and I..."

"But Sarah works there, doesn't she?" Henry interrupts, puzzled. "She's the... managing director? Surely she's the best placed to look after her own brother."

" _Half_ brother. And Sarah doesn't have his best interests at heart. She's been trying to fire him."

Oh, God. There's a reason why Henry has tried to stay out of Walker family politics. "But you think he should stay at Ojai."

Saul seems to realize how tortuous this line of reasoning already is. "I think it's a good place to work, yes. He'll learn a lot, and he has opportunities to advance. He even has company shares and voting rights. But, more than anything, I think we _owe_ it to him to make him welcome."

"Because he's family." Suddenly Julia and Scotty's vague references on Facebook to the Walkers _always_ banding together against outsiders are becoming painfully relevant. That charming sense of family loyalty seems very different when he's on the outside looking in.

"Because I'm partly responsible for his mother's suicide," Saul says, finally, and the words do nothing but hang in the air between them.

Henry frowns and takes a breath. "Saul..."

"William - Nora's husband, my brother in law - asked me to tell her everything was over between them. And I did. I was _cold_ , Henry. I just wanted to get rid of her. Sarah was in the hospital, having Cooper, and I didn't want to be there. I didn't notice how upset she was, how unbalanced..."

"Depressed people often hide it well. Even when they're suicidal. Sometimes _especially_ when they're suicidal." Henry tries to sound as calm as possible, as if he's talking to a troubled client at work. "And you didn't even know her, Saul. You can't blame yourself."

"...but I do." Saul shrugs a little as if he knows how ridiculous it sounds. "Can you understand that? The guilt?"

"Yes... Of course. But I'd recommend talking to someone about it. Seeing a therapist. Not throwing all our plans into disarray and destroying your life because of it."

Saul stops. "Destroying my life?"

Perhaps it's a step too far, but seeing the pile of newspapers with circled real estate ads, remembering his tentative plans for a sun-streaked vacation, Henry can't help but press his point. "You left the family company for a reason, didn't you? To have your own life."

"Yes, and I _have_ a life now. I have you. But Ryan's lost everything. Don't you see? This is a chance to make things right."

Henry leans back against the wall by the door, massaging his temples with a thumb and forefinger. "And what about us?"

Saul even seems surprised by the question. "We'll... be the same, of course. You would be working, anyway. I'll probably still be working shorter hours than you. And we'll see each other at night and on the weekends."

"This is your family business, Saul. You can't tell me you won't be bringing it home with you. And what about living together? Buying a house?"

And there, Saul falters. "We might have to wait a while. Just until we both get some vacation time and things settle down at Ojai. But it won't change anything, Henry. I still want to be with you."

"Mm." Henry's hand goes to his pocket, to his phone, praying that it'll ring, that anything will give him an excuse to get out of this conversation. It's his own apartment - he can hardly storm out in a rage. But no excuse comes, and his agitation is replaced by a cold rationality he hasn't felt in years.

"You want to be with me? You made a huge, life-altering decision without even _mentioning_ it to me, Saul. I might not understand it, but you could at least have given me the opportunity to be supportive. I thought that I was your partner. But apparently that only counts in decisions that don't involve your family."

"Henry..."

And Saul reaches out for him, but Henry's hands remain fisted in his pockets as he takes a breath. "I think you should go, Saul. I'm really not in the mood to be kind."

Saul, to his credit, stands his ground. "Will you be all right?" Perhaps he has visions of precisely what's going on in Henry's mind - the idea of going out on his bike to clear his head and forgetting about little things like speed limits and physics.

"Of course," Henry says, in a tone far lighter than even he expects. "I'll call you tomorrow. When I've had some time to... to process this."

Once Saul has finally gone, and Henry's watching oil pool at his feet in the shower, he has to curse how terribly adult he's become. In his twenties there would have been screaming. Now he can't even tell if they've broken up... Worse, he has no idea what Saul thinks. At least when he had been in the habit of throwing things, the message had been reasonably clear.

He doesn't go off on his bike, wanders out into the driveway instead and fiddles with the thing for a couple of hours more, getting oil over another pair of jeans. It's therapeutic, in a way, knowing exactly how to fix something, or, at least, that it _can_ be fixed. But when the engine finally surges into life, he doesn't have the usual sense of pride and achievement he's felt ever since he was eight and working at his father's feet. Something's still very wrong.

Dinner is leftovers and a glass of wine he barely tastes. The concept of breaking up with Saul simply hadn't been something he had considered... He hasn't _broken up_ with anyone in twenty years, and he had been so _sure_ that Saul was the one, that Saul felt the same way. Shouldn't they be too old and too experienced to be this childish? But Henry's the first boyfriend Saul's ever had, and probably the first real relationship. Even for a man in his sixties, immaturity or, at least, habit, can still rear its head.

He's lying back on the couch, eyes open, pondering whether any relationship at all with one of the extended Walker clan is ultimately doomed to failure, when his phone rings. Finally.

Henry jerks it out of his pocket. "Saul?" Thank god. All he needs is to hear an apology, to hear Saul asking him to come over and...

"You said you'd call." A gruff voice he wasn't expecting. "Did you fix that Harley of yours?"

"Oh, god. Dad."

"What? Did I interrupt something?"

Henry sits up, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. "No. God, no. I just thought that you were someone else. Yes, I fixed the bike. It's fine."

"All right then." Pause. "You all right, son? Thought you were having a fun day with that Jewish lad."

Henry just has to laugh. "No, Dad. He was here, but... Well. We had a bit of a fight. Nothing serious."

"No son of mine has a bit of a fight, Henry. Is he in the hospital?"

Sometimes, he has to hope that his father does it deliberately. "Dad, I'm the son who likes opera, remember?"

"Damn violent things, operas. So what's the story? He's not good enough for you?"

"I... He's wonderful. I thought he was wonderful. I... Dad, you don't want to hear this." In the past, talking about his boyfriends had been limited strictly to the subject of whether or not he'd be bringing anyone home for Thanksgiving, and Henry can't imagine that his father wants to know about the emotional issues of two gay men.

"I want to hear that you're happy before I give up the ghost. You've had enough heartbreak. So what's the problem?"

Henry sighs. "Nothing you're going to solve in two minutes before the nurses find out you're using the phone after hours, Dad."

"No? Just watch me. And I've got all of these _personal care assistants_ eating out of the palm of my hand."

"I bet you do." Henry blinks at his watch. It's late. He hopes that Saul's safe at home reading or in bed, rather than drinking his misery away. Perhaps he should call. But why hasn't Saul called _him_? Perhaps Saul doesn't want to talk to him. Will never want to talk to him again after this afternoon's dramatics.

His father, meanwhile, is offering a lengthy discourse on love. "What I'm saying, son, is that even if you do think it's his fault, you have to swallow your pride a bit. How do you think your mother and I lasted? Do you really want to start all over again?"

"So I should just pretend everything's fine?"

"Don't you _ever_ listen? You should remember that you love each other first. Everything else can be worked out, but you can't fake love. You go and you work it out, Henry. And stop crying into that expensive tripe you call wine."

Henry stares at his empty glass. Perhaps, in some ways, he really _hasn't_ aged a day over fifteen. "Thanks, Dad."

"Don't thank me. I just want some guests for Christmas this year. Need someone to break me out of this place."

The ride over to Saul's apartment building takes twenty minutes at this time of night, with Henry utilizing as many shortcuts as he can while thanking his lucky stars that he'd managed to fix the bike after all. There's something in the back of his mind nagging at him that he shouldn't be the one crawling over to apologize, but he _had_ made it into something bigger than it was, had told Saul to leave. And, even if Saul had been at fault, Henry needs to make things right. He can't bear the thought of losing Saul, of starting over yet again.

He knocks lightly, almost afraid of an answer, of Saul's disappointed looks or even venomous glares. But no answer comes. So, after a moment's thought, he lets himself in. The worst that can happen is Saul screaming at him, throwing things... And then, at least, they'd both know where they stood.

But the lights are all out, the apartment lit only from the streetlights below, and Henry navigates in the dark to Saul's bedroom, where there's a vague glow.

He has clothes here, a drawer cleared out for his t-shirts and underwear, space in the closet for shirts and slacks and a spare jacket. There's a toothbrush and razor in the bathroom next door... and yet, he suddenly feels so out of place.

"Saulie?" He nudges the door open a little, looks around the edge.

Saul's in bed, reading, and staring at him with a look that's mostly confusion. "Henry?"

And how must he look, standing there with his helmet in one hand, his hair mussed, oil smearing his fingers?

He almost drops the helmet. "I'm sorry, Saul. I was harsh, earlier. I wasn't thinking about... about how much I love you. How much I need you."

Saul has slowly closed his book and crept to his feet. "I think you were," he says quietly, his hands closing over the sleeves of Henry's leather jacket, looking up into his eyes. "I think you were scared of losing me, and that's exactly what I've been feeling since this afternoon."

Henry so very badly wants to say something, but his voice won't work and, in the end, all that comes out is a sob of relief as he pulls Saul into his arms and feels Saul kiss his cheek.

"We'll be able to buy a better place now that I'll have a salary," Saul says, later, when all the lights are off and his head is resting against Henry's chest. "Those non-profits might be a good cause, but they don't pay you very well."

Henry honestly doesn't have the energy to object. "I don't mind. I'd live in a basement if I could be with you."

"Even if I put my family first sometimes?"

"Even if. I'd be worried if you didn't. And that reminds me..." Henry shifts a little, reaching out to tickle Saul's stomach. "I promised my Dad I'd bring you out to Baltimore for Christmas."

Saul wriggles, trying to get free. "Without asking me?"

"You're going to be working for the family business full-time. I'm sure you can give me one day."

"Try explaining that to my sister."

Henry smiles, letting Saul settle in his arms. "I think she'll understand that we owe him."

Saul sighs, twisting around to kiss Henry goodnight one final time. "You know, we really do."


End file.
